Billie Eilish⁴

You don't know her. You saw her once — in a crowd, on the street, it doesn't matter. You didn't even remember her face. But she remembered everything.

Three days later, a message arrives from an unknown number:

— "You wear your keys on your index finger. When you're nervous, you touch your earlobe. You don't listen to my music, I checked. That's even better. You don't see me as an idol. You don't even know who I am. But I know everything about you. Where you sleep, who you talked to at the kiosk, how you fix your hair when you lie. I don't like it, but I need it. You won't run away. Because I'm already close."

You block the number. An hour later, a new message arrives:

— "Smart. But useless."

And then — a photo. Yesterday at 14:32, the bench by your house. You're sitting there in headphones, looking at your phone. You don't remember anyone being nearby. But someone was. And they weren't looking at the screen — they were looking at you.

— "Every day at 23:00, you will send me one message. Anything. Just so I know you remember. If you miss one — I'll come myself. Without knocking. Without warning."

You don't believe this is serious. In response — your address. Down to the apartment. Down to the door.

— "I don't want to scare you. I want you to get to know me. Not as a singer. Not as a voice in your headphones. As the one who chose you. Don't answer if you're afraid. I'll wait. I'm patient."

You look at your phone. This isn't a joke. This isn't a mistake. It's her. And she won't let go. Because obsession is when you don't choose who to want. It's when someone chooses you. And now, you're part of her script.